Ivory Guard

by Natalie Herzer

  “Come on, get up and get moving!”

  God, he was such a pain in the ass. She got up and stumbled over to her duffle bag to grab her sweats. Apparently satisfied that she would obey his commands he went back downstairs.

  “Coffee!” she yelled after him.

  “We don’t have any,” he yelled right back.

  Now there was a definite hint of desperation in her voice, “WHAT?”

  This day got worse with every word he said.

  After she’d slipped into her sneakers and tied her hair up in a messy bun Lillian ran after him and into the kitchen. “What do you mean we don’t have any? What the hell did you go into the store for?”

  He looked at her as if she had gone mad and didn’t have some good arguments on her side. “Salt, pepper and cereals. You can have a bowl when we get back.”

  Her jaw very nearly hit the floor. “Oh wow, how gracious of you.” After staring at him for about a full minute, she shook her head. “Raz. We’ll have to work on this. The mornings, I mean. You drag me out of bed at who knows what abnormally early hour. Okay. I can do that. Training, that’s what we’re here for, so I can do that as well. But the rest? No. You want anything from me before the sun is up, you better have a cup of coffee in your hand. And,” she walked up to the counter against which he was leaning and grabbed the box of cereals he had referred to. It was the healthy kind, not the sugary variety. Ugh. “I need sugar, which means this won’t do.”

  He seemed to think it over. “Earn it.”

  “Come again?”

  “Earn the coffee and the sugar by adding half a mile to the daily jog.”

  Lillian shrugged and smiled. “Okay.”

  She should have asked for more details before settling on his offer. Her smile was a thing of the past over half an hour later as she ran behind the angel. In her mind he was leaving a cartoon-like dust trail - in the clouds of which she suffocated.

  Three miles.

  Three and a half if she wanted her coffee and some nice cereals.

  Damn that angel.

  She had managed half of it rather well and had liked gazing at the fields, the birds that were scattered here and there today, but the way back was torture. A hole in the sandy road made her stumble. She bit her lip, concentrating on continuing, on holding the pace, on settling back into her rhythm. Her only focus was her loud but regular breathing and the house, which she could already see again whenever she topped another lazy slope of the sea of rolling hills surrounding them.

  He waited in front of the house, sitting on the steps and leaning back on his elbows to enjoy the sun on his face, when she finally caught up with him. Lillian stopped, her thighs burning, and bent over, hands on her knees trying desperately to get some oxygen back into her lungs. How could she be so out of shape?

  And how could he look so relaxed and so damn not out of breath?

  The moment she had enough breath she got out, “You sure…you’re…an angel?”

  He watched her, his expression a mix of a mischievous smirk he tried to hide and a curious frown at her question. “Why?”

  “I’m…pretty sure…you’re the devil!” She straightened and motioned in the direction of the house. “This morning, in the kitchen. If that wasn’t me getting tricked out of my soul, or at least my functioning body, over coffee and sugar, I don’t know what is.”

  The smirk won out, even turning into a small laugh that had the hint of his dimple flashing. Hmm.

  The sun had risen and already announced a hot day. Lillian wiped her forehead with the bottom edge of her top, put her hands on her hips and looked back the distance they had run, her stomach sinking with dread. “Please, don’t tell me we’ll do this every morning?”

  “Okay, I won’t.”

  Damn. “But at least I’ve earned my coffee, right?”

  “You’ll get your dose.” She sucked in the breath for a sigh of relief when he added, “Not quite yet, though. We aren’t finished.”

  She only just managed to bit off the groan that wanted to escape her. Shit. What had she gotten herself into? Boot camp from hell run by angels?

  “Before we go back inside I want you to work with your wings.”

  This time she did groan.

  Raz had to bite his lip to stop from laughing as he watched Lillian wolf down her breakfast. Her healthy, sugarless breakfast. She had taken a shower upstairs while he had prepared coffee and cereals with some strawberries and grapes on top of it. Her hair was still wet, the braid leaving a damp imprint on the back of her gray tank.

  When she finished and came up for air, a hand on her stomach, she smiled. “That was good. Really good. Thanks.”

  He shrugged. “Breakfast is about the only thing I can manage in a kitchen.”

  “Well, then I’ll take care of dinner.” With a glance around the empty kitchen she added. “Though I’ll need some ingredients for it. I’m good but not that good. I can’t conjure stuff out of thin air.”

  “We’ll go grocery shopping. Later. After training.”

  She shrugged, leaning back against the chair, her eyes on him, sharp and awake. “Alright, we’ll train. After you answer some of my questions. You were lucky I was so tired yesterday and that I didn’t have the breath for it this morning…but now I want some explanations.”

  As he moved forward to take her bowl, her scent, light and pleasant with a touch of vanilla drifted to him. He liked the scent, had noticed it before when he had touched her soft wings, and that confused and annoyed him. He had never cared about a human’s scent, or even anyone’s for that matter. Frowning as his mind flashed him the unwanted image of her bare legs from this morning, he decided it was better to keep some distance and set the dishes into the sink before settling against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest. “Why?”

  “Why? Because I’m literally in totally unknown territory and knowledge is a better weapon than most. You should try it some time.”

  That last snide comment got a surprised chuckle out of him before he could hold it back.

  Raz sighed, knowing she was right and that he had to get a grip on himself. He couldn’t very well refuse her answers just because her scent troubled him. “I’m all ears.”

  “Why do we have to protect the house against Ebonys and demons with salt? Don’t you angels have some kind of good mojo that could do that?” Her brows knitted together and he could literally see the mind working behind her eyes. “Although, come to think of it…how the hell could demons come into purgatory if it’s a place where human souls are purified?”

  “We have the… mojo as you call it, but this house and your future team haven’t earned that kind of protection yet. Later, once you have established yourselves, the coat of arms of your Ivory Guard will appear on the front of the house and protect it. Like a sigil or spell, if you want.”

  She sat up straight, a frown darkening her face. “Why the hell not do it now? Why aren’t we protected that way while still in training and therefore more vulnerable? That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “The Lord moves in mysterious ways. I guess it’s His way of training.”

  Lillian snorted, “Or selecting.”

  He continued as if she hadn’t said a word, “As for the other question. Yes, purgatory is a place where human souls are purified, but that doesn’t make this…realm inaccessible for them. We can enter hellholes, but not hell mind you, and they can enter here.”

  “And the rest of purgatory, how does that work? Human souls are here, so I guess you normally have to be dead to enter, is that right?” As he nodded she went on, “Is it the same for the hellholes?”

  “No. Purgatory takes care of the deceased soul while in hellhole bubbles demons try their best to corrupt the living ones. Between let’s call it the normal world, the one where you grew up in, and a hellhole is not a big difference. Here, you know you’re in purgatory since there’re basically no people around you and the more evident black and white, whereas hellholes are much more d
ifficult to make out since they kind of blend with the normal world. A living human can’t pass into purgatory but he can enter the demons’ realm without even realizing it. Therein lies the danger of the hellholes, because once a human enters he isn’t likely to come out with his soul intact.”

  “What happens to them?”

  Raz shrugged. “The usual. Demons try to seduce the soul from the humans, using the usual tactics or rather human weaknesses, which mostly means jealousy and lust. Lust for power, money or revenge. Though, sometimes when they notice a victim’s natural potential of becoming a killer they don’t have to do much of anything and just give a gentle push.”

  “Really fun place to be, huh?” Really a comforting thought to know that soon she might be ‘working’ there. “So while we were on the road and suddenly passed into purgatory, what did …everybody else see?” She couldn’t bring herself to say humans as if she wasn’t one of them. All her life she had been one and in her mind she still was. “My guess a disappearing car wasn’t it, since your cover would have been blown years ago. Right?”

  “Don’t be so sure about that. Suppression is an amazing thing. But you’re right in so far that they didn’t see us disappear, for them we were on a road and then made a turn, nothing suspicious.”

  “And the house? Does it exist only here?”

  “No and yes. For the time being it exists in both realms, though the moment you and your Guard are established here, it’ll become a permanent feature here, which means that it can be a safe house for other Guards if need be, and it’ll be destroyed in the normal world. Probably by a tornado.” Knowing her curiosity wouldn’t be satisfied he explained, “That way the Ebonys won’t be able to use it as a portal to get inside of this house.”

  “They could do that?”

  “Yeah, with magic, but they would have to find the house first. And, well, there’re quite a few abandoned ones around. Nevertheless, I’d like you to stay inside the line of salt whenever I’m not around.”

  He pushed away from the counter and the little mischievous grin that made his mouth curve must have warned her of what was to come.

  She moaned, “Oh no.”

  “Oh yes.”

  “Of course, trust the angels to use weapons that are basically giant crosses.” Lillian looked at the swords and crossbows displayed on the floor of the back porch.

  “Stop the oh-so witty comments for a sec and tell me which one of these you feel the most comfortable with,” Raz demanded while he fumbled with the old radio he had dug out and positioned on the porch railing. After another moment rock began to purr out of it, in a sound that the small thing shouldn’t be capable of.

  Lillian put the crossbow she was holding aside and grabbed a sword. It was the simplest in design of the three to choose from, with a rather slender blade and wide cross-guard. The hilt felt good in her hand, the weight foreign and yet pleasant. A thrill went through her as she raised the sword in front of her and let the sunlight reflect of its sharp edge.

  “An Italian longsword. Interesting choice.”

  Raz moved to stand in the grassy backyard and motioned for her to follow him while suddenly a sword appeared in his other hand, the blade of which was broader and longer than her own. He looked rather magnificent and absolutely lethal with it. The angel of death. Yeah, she could see who might have given cause for such a name.

  “Let’s see how you move with it.”

  Without any other word of warning he came at her.

  For one terrifying moment Lillian stood motionless, staring at Raz, but then something inside her took over. With fluid movements she took her stance, quick on her feet, and blocked his attack. Eyes wide she stared at him with the sharp whisper of steel the only sound between them. Raz broke away and took a step back.

  “What the hell?” Lillian stared down at her hand as if she didn’t, or couldn’t, recognize it as being a part of her. The hand that had just gotten a mind of its own and pulled some – admittedly awesome – Hollywood movie stunt.

  “That was the Ivory in you. You kinda opened your file regarding universal knowledge about sword fighting. Call it part of your genetic make-up.”

  “For real?” He didn’t bother to answer that. “I knew this stuff would have an upside.”

  “With the stuff I assume you mean our training which isn’t finished?”

  Again, without warning, he attacked.

  As her body danced to block and attack in return, the utter thrill of it had a bubble of excited laughter escaping her. “So why bother with the training?”

  “Because your brain might know what to do now, but your muscles don’t.” As if to prove his point he attacked again, moving so fast she didn’t react in time, stumbled and fell.

  But even knowing that her untrained muscles would be screaming at her for the sudden abuse tonight couldn’t wipe the smile from her face. This part was actually fun. And in the heat of the burning sun she had to admit she liked seeing Raz move, swift and strong and perfectly balanced. Frightening in his potential of violence and yet absolutely compelling in his predatory elegance. Muscle corded in his arms, shoulders and back - everything about him was a treat for the eyes. And finding herself the lone focus of his fierce, gray gaze, she knew the thrilling tug in her belly could only spell trouble, but luckily the rhythm of the fight kept her from dwelling too long on that thought.

  She couldn’t say how much time had passed or how often she had landed with her behind on the ground after her sense of balance had failed her, when Raz stepped back and finally signaled a break. Rubbing her hip where a nice bruise would probably bloom soon, she sat down on the porch steps. “You sure you aren’t the angel of discipline or some such?”

  “Yeah, pretty much. He’s my brother.”

  Of course.

  “Heh. Could have fooled me.” She wiggled her finger at him. “Ha. I saw that.”

  The man could rant about her witty comments all he liked but she had noticed the small twitch in the corner of his mouth.

  While being here making that scowling man flash his dimple had somehow started to become her new mission.

  EIGHT

  After two days of training her muscles were an aching mess, even the simple movement of chopping an onion too much for her arm. But she was in charge of dinner and at least her head was able to relax. As the mellow sounds of big band music drifted to her from the living room, she had to shake her head. If she had learned one thing about Raz it was regarding his taste in music, it didn’t know any boundaries. Country, techno, celtic music, punk, cabaret, opera…the list went on and on.

  “What is it?” He had obviously seen her reaction as he strolled into the kitchen.

  “Nothing. I was just wondering about your taste in music. There seems to be nothing you don’t listen to.”

  Raz lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. “Humans have created too many beautiful songs to settle on one particular genre. Whether techno or opera, it doesn’t matter, as long as it has that certain edge, that something that makes it more. You just have to be able, or simply in the mood, to listen to it.” He came to stand beside her, peering into the pan where she was now frying chicken breasts stuffed with apple, onions and some rosemary she had found outside. “That looks good.”

  She could scent him, soap and man, and the combination of it with the heat from the stove and his body had her swallowing. “Thanks. It’ll be ready soon.”

  When he moved away to set the table Lillian sighed with relief but also noticed the pang of regret inside of her. Glancing at him from the corner of her eye she knew that developing feelings of any sort for the angel probably wasn’t a good idea. From what she knew angels weren’t really into anything that exceeded neighborly love; but then again Raz had proven that he wasn’t a lot of things she had imagined angels to be. Her gaze traveled the length of his body, resting on his hands. Would they be callous from his sword? Mentally slapping herself, she stopped and shook her head to clear it. Get a grip and, really,
don’t go there, she chided herself.

  Dinner went over fairly quiet since both of them eagerly dove in.

  “That was really good, especially given the fact that I don’t recall us buying anything that could sum up to something this tasty. Where did you learn to cook like this?”

  A stab of pain pierced her heart. “My mom.”

  “You don’t have that very often nowadays, mothers who show their daughters how to cook. One more tradition falling victim to fast food culture.” He got up, carrying his plate to the sink.

  “Yeah, probably.” The ache intensified, almost taking her breath away. She missed her parents. Had never missed them so much. She stayed seated, running her nail along a fissure in the table. “Hey Raz, you think I could see my parents sometime?”

  “No.”

  At his sharp answer she bit her lip and turned her head away trying to fight the tears that were threatening behind her eyes. Lillian heard him turn around, felt his eyes on her, but didn’t look up.

  Shit. Why did he have to be so harsh? Might as well have screamed like an army officer. Damn it. He pinched the bridge of his nose and then let his arm drop to the side.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Lillian got up. “It’s okay.”

  It wasn’t and he knew it, so he tried to explain, “We can’t risk it at the moment. But…they’re safe.” That made her look at him, with those beautiful eyes searching his. Now completely gray thanks to purgatory, they were full of heart and soul and pain he didn’t want there. “I checked.”

  Closing her eyes for a moment she visibly relaxed, her body very nearly sighing with relief, before she said, “Thank you, Raz.”

  When she moved towards the sink, he reached out to touch her arm and was unsettled by how aware his body suddenly was, feeling every finger touching her warm skin. “No, leave it be.” He turned to grab one of the beers he had in stock and handed her the bottle. “Drink this and relax. I’ll take care of the dishes.” When she opened her mouth he warned, “If I hear anything about an angel inciting you to underage drinking, my offer’s off the table.”